Gametime, p.22
Gametime, page 22
Leaving was for the best, if not cowardly. I’d pledged to dedicate myself to hockey the next three months. She’d dumped me, even if she did love me as my brother claimed. If we’d started something up again tonight, we’d probably regret it in the morning.
I wasn’t convinced my regrets weren’t happening right now, though. Not one bit.
41
Grand Gesture
Naomi
Kaitlyn dragged me away from Pax, claiming she wanted to borrow some mascara, but I knew better. I’d told her about the grand gesture, and she’d prevented an early reconciliation. They were all conspiring to force me to make my grand gesture.
I was pissed yet relieved she’d interrupted my pending good time. When I’d returned, Pax was gone. Multiple times I’d texted him and not hit send.
We both needed to get through finals week, and then we’d have unpressured time to figure out where we were going. He’d mentioned at lunch one day that he was hanging around during break rather than going home. I didn’t blame him. If I had a dad like that, I’d stay on campus, too. In fact, I’d fly home on Christmas Eve and return right after Christmas. That’s all I would be able to tolerate of my dad’s girlfriend.
Regardless, my make-out session with Pax bolstered my courage. He wanted me, too. While rejection was still a possibility, I felt better about it.
Finals week had been long and brutal. I’d done well on my tests, the last one being yesterday. I’d spoken with Pax a few times when I’d run into him on campus. He’d been friendly but distant.
Secretly, I’d met Patrick a few times to plan my grand gesture, which involved skating. Each time, I had a panic attack and was unable to step onto the ice, even with Patrick’s promises to hold on to me so I wouldn’t get hurt.
Tonight was the hockey alumni skate, and I waffled between carrying out Patrick’s plan and forgetting I’d ever agreed to such a terrifying proposition.
Kaitlyn rapped on my door. I opened it, still wearing my bathrobe.
She looked me up and down. “What the fuck is this? The guys are already headed to the rink. Everything’s set up for your grand entrance. And you’re not dressed.”
“I’m not going. I can’t do this. I’ll freak out when I’m on the ice. I can’t do it.”
“Oh, no, sister. You’re going. If I have to knock you over the head and get security to carry you out to my car.”
“I can’t do it. I’m not prepared. It’s a deep-seated phobia. I need more prep time.”
“Guess what? You don’t have more time. Tonight is the night.”
Kaitlyn crossed the room to my small fridge. She opened the door and looked inside. After grabbing a bottle of wine, she opened it and poured two glasses.
“Drink. It’ll help.”
Under Kaitlyn’s firm eye, I drank a glass of wine, hoping a little liquid courage would go a long way. My intentions of skipping tonight disappeared when I saw her determined expression. One way or another, I was going. I dressed and put on my makeup.
“You look great. Let’s go.”
“I don’t have skates. I thought you were bringing skates.” I’d been relieved to see her skateless. I might still get out of this.
“Patrick has them. You’re ruining my date with Lex the longer you stall.”
Her guilt trip tipped me over the edge. I steeled myself for the inevitable.
We got there a few minutes after the event had started. Essentially, it involved skating as couples to music with mood lighting and Christmas decorations. A banquet table and bar provided refreshments. This event was a huge hit with the alumni, and the players enjoyed it, too. Not to mention, it was a lucrative fund-raiser for the hockey program. My dad would be here, not sure about his girlfriend. Right now, my dad was the least of my worries, though I suspected he’d be humiliated by my paralyzing fear of skating and complete ineptness on the ice. When he’d suggested a grand gesture, I was positive he hadn’t had this public display in mind.
This wasn’t about my dad. This was about Paxton and proving how much he meant to me, doing something beyond words.
Kaitlyn ushered me to where Patrick waited in a remote part of the arena away from prying eyes. He handed me a box.
I stared at them in surprise. “Are these—?”
Patrick smiled at me. “He never returned them.”
Those skates had probably taken the bulk of Pax’s monthly budget, and yet he hadn’t returned them. Pax didn’t forget stuff like that, which meant his keeping them had been intentional. Tentatively, I opened the box. The skates were pink, and they were beautiful. I held one up and examined it.
“I—”
“Put them on. We don’t have all night,” Patrick insisted with a hint of impatience.
I pulled them on. They fit perfectly. Patrick bent down and laced them up tight. He straightened and gave me an encouraging smile.
“You’ll be fine,” Kaitlyn said.
“Okay, you ready?” Patrick stood and grabbed my hand. Kaitlyn and Lex watched with grins on their faces.
“It’d help to have less of an audience. I appreciate all your support, but please start your evening. Patrick and I have this.”
“You aren’t going to run, are you?” Kaitlyn narrowed her eyes and gave me her death glare. No one had a death glare like her.
“No.”
“I won’t let her,” Patrick insisted. “You two go have fun.”
Reluctantly, Kaitlyn took Lex’s outstretched hand and disappeared around the corner, pausing once to look back at me and wink.
“Ready?”
I drew in deep, calming breaths, attempting to tamp down my rising panic. I must do this. I will do this.
Patrick hauled me to my feet, and I clung to him as we made our way down the too long hallway. Our blades clacked on the floor. I wasn’t wearing guards because Patrick didn’t want to impede my progress by having to remove them before I got on the ice.
I hesitated at the gate onto the ice. I surveyed the scene before me to plot out the most direct path to Paxton with the least amount of people in my way.
My dad had been skating with his girlfriend when he saw me. He did a double take and started to skate toward me. I shook my head and pointed to Paxton, still unaware I was here. Dad grinned and nodded. He got it. He knew what I was up to and approved. His nod of endorsement gave me an extra needed boost of courage.
Patrick stepped onto the ice, grabbed me around the waist, lifted me into the rink. He held me until my legs stopped shaking—somewhat.
“You got this.” He turned me so I faced in Pax’s direction.
Pax stood in the center of the ice, watching people skate around him. His pasted-on smile was forlorn, almost lost. He turned and glanced my direction. His head snapped back around, and he took a longer look. He blinked several times.
“Ready. Go!” Patrick gave me a push across the ice.
I wobbled and wavered and stiffly glided toward Paxton, waving my arms in a desperate attempt to keep my balance. He gaped at me as if not understanding what the fuck I was doing.
He was so far away, and my heart was pounding so hard my legs trembled, and my throat closed off. I began to gasp for air, fighting for control of my panic. My eyes met Paxton’s. I never took my eyes off him. Concern was etched on his handsome face, but he held himself back, as if instinctively knowing I had to do this myself.
“Naomi, you don’t have to do this,” he called to me. But damn it, I was doing it.
Within five feet of him, one skate slid in the wrong direction and tangled with the back blade on the other. Flashbacks hit me. Panic surged through my veins, robbed me of oxygen, and strangled me in its unforgiving clutches. I struggled for control of my mind and my feet.
I floundered, arms waving wildly.
I was going down.
42
Pink Skates
Paxton
At first, I thought I had to be hallucinating.
But I wasn’t. Naomi was very shakily skating toward me on pink skates, the very skates I’d bought her and she’d given back to me when she’d dumped me.
Not that I’d call what she was doing skating, exactly, but she was on skates, and she was upright. I gave her a zero for form and a ten for execution.
Mr. Smith skated up beside me. I didn’t take my eyes off Naomi. I feared if I did, she’d panic and fall. Determination and blind fear warred with each other on her beautiful face.
“What’s she doing?” I asked.
“The grand gesture. Just like I told her.” Mr. Smith beamed at his daughter, not that I chanced a glance at him, but I knew from the tone of his voice.
Grand gesture?
Wasn’t that the thing they did often in romances where the guy, usually, did some huge thing to impress the love of his life? Only this time, the guy wasn’t the one. I had no problem with that. I wasn’t into male-female stereotypes.
“Naomi,” I said in a hushed voice. She faltered at the sound of her name, a disaster in the making as one skate decided to rebel and wrap itself around the other. She was about to go down in a tangle of arms and legs.
I wouldn’t let her grand gesture end that way.
In one swift stride, I had her in my arms. She clung to me. Sweat beaded on her brow. Her breath came in panicked gasps. Her heart pounded against my chest. I held her tight, barely noticing the cheering going on around us.
“You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you,” I murmured in her ear, knowing what I said didn’t matter as much as a calming tone. She wrapped her legs around me, spearing my shins with her skate blades, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered but this beautiful, courageous woman in my arms. After a while, her breathing began to return to normal and her heartbeat slowed. She carefully placed one foot on the ground then the other, standing on her blades.
She looked up at me and grinned in triumph. “I did it!”
“You did.” I grinned back, so very proud of her.
“I did it for you, Pax. For us.”
“I know,” I croaked out with misty eyes. The last thing I was going to do was cry in front of this tough crowd. I hugged her tight, pressing my face into her hair, and held her until I had a handle on my emotions. “Do you want me to help you back to the bleachers?”
“No, I want to skate with you.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “Just promise you won’t let go of me.”
“I promise.”
Carefully, I turned while holding her waist, keeping her close to my side. I skated with slow, even strokes around the rink. My teammates made way for us, cheering as we skated past. Some of the women had suspiciously wet eyes and a few of the guys.
Patrick fist-bumped me and winked. He beamed at the two us. “I knew you could do it,” he called to Naomi.
“Thank you, bro.” I grinned at him, knowing he’d had a part in this.
We skated slowly to several Christmas songs until Naomi begged for a break. I safely sat her down and retrieved hot buttered rums from the bar. I sat next to her, and we sipped our drinks and watched the skaters.
“Why did you do it?” I asked finally.
“Because I was a fool to break up with you, and I wanted to prove how real this thing is between us. Words weren’t enough. I needed something bigger.”
“And you came up with skating?”
“With the help of your brother. I’ll never forgive him for this.” She laughed and so did I.
I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her with every ounce of emotion in my body. Drawing back, I framed her beautiful face in my hands.
“I love you, Naomi. There’ll always be room in my life for you and hockey.”
“I love you, Pax.” She leaned forward and showed me how much. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to the rain next fall.”
“I guess you are.”
Patrick joined us in a group hug, while Naomi’s father stood nearby with a happy smile on his face.
Look out, Seattle, here we come.
* * *
T H E
E N D
Thank you for reading Gametime by Jami Davenport. Did you know there’s a fun bonus epilogue for Naomi and Paxton? Click here to get it.
You can get all the links to the next Moo U books right here. Or turn the page for more great recommendations for Jami Davenport and World of True North titles!
Overtime: Chapter One
By Kat Mizera
Patrick
Sixteen seconds on the clock.
The score was tied at two, and I wasn’t going to be happy if we had to go to overtime. The team I played for had lost to these guys during this particular New Year’s tournament for the last ten years. Tonight, we were going to win it. At least, we were if I had anything to say about it.
I cut my gaze over to my twin brother, Paxton, and gave him a little signal. It was something we’d been doing for years, since we were six or seven years old, and when I winked twice, he knew exactly what I had in mind. He skated behind the other team’s goalie, but instead of carrying the puck with him to the other side, he stopped behind the net like he was looking to make a pass. To everyone’s surprise but mine, he flipped the puck over the top of the net, dumping it right into the slot—where I was waiting. I one-timed it over the goalie’s left shoulder and with ten seconds left in the game, I saw that gorgeous red light go off.
My teammates immediately surrounded me, arms in the air. We’d just pulled ahead and if we could keep it away from them for ten more seconds, we’d actually beat these guys for the first time in years.
I skated to the bench and let the D-men handle it, and nine seconds later, we had our arms in the air once again.
Fuck yeah.
“You rock, Trick!” Lex Vonne, one of my teammates, called me by my nickname as he shook his head. “You and Pax freak me right out when you do that twin shit.”
“Damn twins.” Another teammate, Tate Adler, grinned at us.
Paxton didn’t say much—he never did—and just smiled as he walked back toward the locker room. I followed behind him, my heart still thumping with excitement. This had been a great tournament and winning always made it that much better. Scoring the winning goal made the whole event epic.
I was in such a good mood, I didn’t notice someone coming up behind me.
“Patrick. I need to talk to you.” Bart Keller, the team’s gruff, no-nonsense head coach, motioned for me to follow him.
Shit. This couldn’t be good.
“What’s up, Coach?” I had a feeling I knew what was coming, but I’d been hoping getting the game-winning goal would deter him. Apparently not.
“I just got a list of players with bad grades. You’re on it.” He met my eyes, and there wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his. “I don’t care if you make the game-winning goal every game for the rest of your college career—if you don’t keep your grades up next semester, you’re benched. If you’re failing a single class, you’re off the team. Starting now, I want notes from every one of your professors, weekly.”
“Coach, I—” I started to defend myself but he cut me off.
“Save it. Get a tutor. Beg your brother to help you. I don’t care how you do it, but I need weekly progress reports as soon as classes resume. And anything less than a B, you’re benched.”
“Wait, what?” I stared at him. “I can’t get less than a B? But—”
“My team, my rules. That’s all.” He turned away and I scowled, my heart dropping to my feet. I was so screwed.
My grades this past semester had been awful. I’d barely scraped by, but studying had never been my thing, and with a contract in the big leagues looming before me, marketing and statistics really weren’t on my radar. It’s not like I’d ever use any of that stuff as a professional hockey player, so taking time to study seemed like a waste. Hell, even if I didn’t play hockey for some reason, I was never going to use statistics in the real world.
“What happened?” Paxton fell into step beside me when we finally headed out to the bus that would take us back to campus.
I relayed the conversation and he grimaced.
“Told you all that partying was going to catch up to you.” We sank down next to each other when we got on the bus.
“Thanks, bro. Way to kick your twin when he’s down.”
“You need a tutor.”
“Duh.”
“I think I know someone.” Paxton was the studious one, so I’d half thought he would volunteer.
“Besides you?” I asked, arching a brow.
He chuckled. “I have my own studying to do, plus I have a girlfriend who requires my attention. And anyway, you never listen to me. You need someone you can’t easily tell to fuck off.”
I gave a half-hearted laugh. “There is that.”
“Ellie.”
“Huh?”
“Ellie McGinn. You know who she is, right?”
“She’s that super-genius teenager… Isn’t she a kid?”
“Not really. I think she’s nineteen now, and anyway, her age is irrelevant because she’s brilliant. She’s also not your type, so you won’t spend the whole time trying to get in her pants.”
“Why isn’t she my type?” I asked, frowning. If I was honest, almost all women were my type. As long as they were hygienic and stuff, I wasn’t that picky. I mean, sure, I had my choice of girls most of the time as captain of the Burlington University—affectionately known as Moo U—varsity hockey team, but I didn’t have a type, per se.
“Well, she’s shy and nerdy, for one thing. Super smart, studies all the time, and definitely not the kind of girl who’ll fawn over you. And you seem to like that.”
“Whatever.” I shook my head, taking his teasing in stride. “I need help getting my grades up, so I don’t really care what she looks like, as long as she’s smart, competent, and won’t completely break the bank.”
